Hopping out of my car to get gas, a little old man was at the pumps next to me. He struck up an inane conversation about how gas prices are so damn high. I just nodded, not wanting to take the bait and mention how much lower they had gotten recently. He then asked me where I worked. I told him I was becoming a writer, so I work where I want, for myself. “Must be nice!” he spat out, then he began his personal tirade:
Retirement sucks
There is nothing to do
The guys I worked with won’t go to lunch
I never get invited to holiday parties anymore
Non one cares to hear what a retiree has to say
People tell me to get a hobby
Oh my Gawd. Now I have never been a fan of the Walking Dead, but here was a zombie ambushing me at the pump. As I drove away I thought about the old man. Had he been a punch press operator? His whole life being run by a machine? Then off to a bar at 3:30 with his fellow inmates coworkers? Or an accountant in a cubicle forever reconciling accounts and closing the books?
He was long dead. But retirement hadn’t killed him. It just made him easier to spot. Pacing back and forth mentally, no longer behind a wall. “What year was it, when he died?” I wondered. When did he give up on his dreams and have his entire life defined by the job he performed? Decades ago I imagined.
Then I thought of the guy outside of where we had gone to lunch, pacing back and forth, yelling thru the phone. Maybe to employees. Maybe to his employer. Another of the Walking Dead. Work being everything. Couldn’t even appreciate the beautiful bay view. Or his wife or girlfriend waiting at the table.
Thankfully I never became one of the Walking Dead. Though I did come close. But I always had a life outside of work. We can’t all be Bob Dylan, or Mick Jagger, or Tom Petty and live the job we love till the day we die. Even if we are lucky enough to have a dream job, it usually doesn’t last forever. When you hang up your cleats, or close your company issued laptop for the final time… you best have a well established life. Or you were part of the Walking Dead. And will continue to be, just much more visible, and annoying, like the old man at the gas station. How do they kill zombies on the Walking Dead? Hell yes, today I am being cruel. And yes, some people can be saved from a zombie fate. But not my job… they must save themselves. Or maybe I can help just a little.
Do you have a full life outside of work? If not… what year was it, when you died?